Stains of Time
by Kayley Taylor
Summary: Sequel to Somewhere in Time. Shortly before Christine and Will's departure from Port Royal, they are imprisoned for crimes they did not commit. To save them from their entailing deaths, she finds a way to save them, but it will forever tear apart.
1. The Beginning of the End

Chapter One

The Beginning of the End

**First and foremost, this is the sequel to Somewhere in Time, a previous fic of mine. If you haven't yet read that yet, I suggest you do, if you're interested in this fic, otherwise you won't understand a thing going on.**

**Secondly, I hope that you all enjoy! Reviews would be lovely!**

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I felt like I was supposed to be celebrating.

It was the sixth of October. Will Turner and I were due to leave for somewhere – anywhere – tomorrow morning. We had been waiting for this day after a month of planning, since my suspicion (or paranoia – God only knew which one it was) of Mrs. Ashford's plans for my fate were as unpredictable as the wind. We were also due to leave since our fear of Lord Cutler Beckett's extreme acts of ridding the seas and lands of pirates were bound to come to us.

I could never predict Mrs. Ashford's actions, but I was sure that nothing good would come from me staying with her. She was unpredictable and imaginative, which were two deadly things for me, especially since I was sure she hated me. That was what had triggered mine and Will's move from Port Royal, but what had kept it going was the fear of Lord Beckett. Will's life was now in much more danger than mine had ever been in.

Instead of celebrating like I felt that I should have been, I was in Mrs. Ashford's Bakery, kneading the dough and baking it. It was, as always, painfully early, and not a single person was on the streets. I had dimly lit the inside of the bakery with a few candles, as usual.

Everything was normal, except for the fact that I was alone. Mrs. Ashford was always with me when I baked. I hardly missed her bitchy attitude, and was more than happy to have her gone for a morning, but a part of me was frightened when I wondered where she was. Mrs. Ashford was _always_ with me in the morning. God knew I would burn down the bakery otherwise.

It wasn't until half an hour by myself had passed that I began to suspect something. Even though it was painfully early and I was dead tired, as always, I could tell when something wasn't right. Something in the air was different. It was an eerie, almost ominous morning.

I picked up the dough that I was kneading and slammed it down onto the wooden board, digging the heels of my hands into the doughy, floury substance, trying to rid myself of my nervous energy.

I couldn't help but wonder if this was the day that I would die. Mrs. Ashford was gone. I never felt lonely when I was in the bakery, I was nothing but suspicious and and half-frightened. I wasn't preparing myself for the all-too possible what-if? of my fate (or lack thereof), all I could do was _think_ about if this was my final day.

The more that I began to think about this possibly being my last day alive changed everything. The suspicion faded instantly, and fear swept over me. It turned my stomach cold, and I could swear that my heart skipped a few beats.

That would be it. Will and I would be so close to leaving Port Royal for good, on our way to starting a life together in the colonies, England, or France, even. I didn't care where – just as long as we got out of Port Royal alive.

I basked in the silence for just a few moments, stopping my baking, and realized how close we were to leaving. My heart pounded at the thought – the adrenaline, the fear, and the risk, all wrapped up into a few heartbeats.

I exhaled and went back to putting some dough in a bread pan. I turned around to bake it, and I heard the door open forcefully.

I could have thought that it was Mrs. Ashford. I could have let myself believe that, if I heard her light, delicate footsteps on the wooden floorboard. I could have let myself believe that she had come from God knew where to do God knew what.

These footsteps were heavier, and I heard one pair, two pairs, three, four... I could hear more and more pairs of footsteps entering the bakery.

Fear churned inside of me. Was I going to be robbed? Had Mrs. Ashford sent a gang of men to do her dirty work for her?

I didn't dare turn around. I kept my eyes on the flames inside the open oven. Sweat began to gather in tiny beads on my forehead – and not only from the heat.

I wasn't sure if there were still people coming into the bakery, or if they were simply coming closer. I simply stood with the bread pan in my hand, frozen with fear.

I didn't even breathe. If I did, it would come out choppily. I was sure that I would faint if even a breathe of air escaped me

"Christine Werden," one man said, "you under arrest for treason against His Majesty, the King of England, and are charged with being an accessory-after-the-fact concerning one William Turner."

I almost thought that no one was in the bakery at all, and that I had imagined that sentence. Me – under arrest for treason and being an accessory for something Will did? It made no sense at all. Why would I be plotting against a king that I didn't even know of, and how could I be an accessory for Will's crime – whatever that was?

In that split second before I said anything to whomever was in the bakery with me, I realized that was impossible for me to be charged of this. I was not involved with whatever crime Will committed, nor was there any proof of me being a traitor to England and planning to overthrow the government or kill the King.

I put the bread pan down on counter and turned around. I was shocked at how many people were in the bakery. There must have been at least fifteen soldiers, all in red coats with bayonettes at their sides. It seemed like some sort of dream, all of these men coming to arrest me for something I didn't do. I wondered if they had the wrong name.

"But, I didn't do anything," I said.

As I said it, I realized that was the most petty thing I could say to these fifteen plus men. After I had been announced that I was under arrest for treason and an accessory for a crime that Will did, trying to say that I was innocent was not the smartest thing I could have done.

I swallowed and tried to think of an intelligent thing to say, something that might help me. In my panicked state, I tried to think like Will.

"Where's the warrant?" I asked.

The soldier closest to me, on the other side of the counter, handed me a sheet of paper. With shaky hands, I took it and looked it over. All I could get out of it was "outstanding evidence", "treason", and "accessory-after-the-fact". The words still made no sense to me. My heart began to race more and more at the reality. This was no longer my imagination. I was holding the warrant for my arrest in my hands.

I couldn't bear to look at it anymore. I handed the warrant back to the man, who I couldn't bring myself to look at. It seemed there was nowhere for me to look. All of the men were looking at me, as still as statues, which made me want to believe, again, that I was imagining this.

"You are to be taken to Fort Charles, where you will then be questioned," the soldier closest to me said – the same one who handed me my warrant. I managed to look skiddishly into his light blue eyes. "If you are found innocent of only treason, you will be hanged tomorrow morning. If you are still found guilty for treason, however, you will be burned at the stake at the same date."

It surprised me how calmly the man was addressing a death sentence.

It took me a few moments before I realized that I was the one being spoken to. His eerie calm death sentence was directed towards me. I was to be either burned at the stake or hanged for something that I didn't do.

I was absolutely shocked and became sick to my stomach at how this could have happened.

"But, I didn't do anything!" I protested again, my voice coming out in a squeak. "I didn't do anything!"

The same soldier, looking bored, got four of his men to come towards me. They seemed so intimidating. They were coming to arrest me, to bring to my death tomorrow morning.

The only thing I could bring myself to do was to look at the fire in the oven. Fire was something I had been around, something I had once viewed Mrs. Ashford as. It would be the death of me in just twenty-four hours.

One man held my arms, but I immediately struggled. I jerked my arms towards my chest as best as I could, but he had a firm grip.

"Don't touch me!" I said.

My jaw clenched in fear, and I struggled even more. The man's grip was so tight I was sure there would be bruises.

Another soldier, who went behind me, grabbed my arms, and I realized that a fight was pointless. I paled in comparison to these men.

The third man put the shackles around my wrists. They were so heavy. It was God's sick joke, I thought -- the shackles were as heavy as my innocence, or as heavy as the day tomorrow would bring.

Two men (the ones who grabbed my arms), took a hold of one arm each, and began to walk me to the door. It seemed like I was in some sort of play, or a nightmare. Even as I was being walked out the door with at least fifteen men with me, it didn't seem like it was actually happening to _me_. It felt like this was someone else's nightmare, and I just happened to be in their body.

Once we were outside, I saw Brown's Blacksmith and immediately thought of Will. Had he been arrested for his part of the crime, or had they come to me first as some sort of warning for Will?

The last time I saw Will was the night before his birthday I wouldn't even have a chance to say goodbye.

"No!" I said, trying to pull my arms back from the soldiers that were holding them. "No! I didn't do anything!"

The soldiers held my arms tighter, and I could hardly move them once they tightened their grip. It was all I could bring myself to say to them.

I thought about calling out Will's name, but there was nothing he could do to stop the soldiers. I couldn't be saved after I arrived in Fort Charles.

This was my worst nightmare come true, only the roles were reversed. I always thought that I would be watching Will being taken away by the soldiers because of piracy, but I was the one being taken away on treason and an accessory. Will had no idea that I was to die tomorrow.

Will and I were just one day away from leaving Port Royal. Even if the soldiers came for me twenty-four hours later, Will and I would have been on a ship, far away. The time that we were to leave tomorrow was the time that I would be in my last hours.

I was something greater than crushed. Devastated didn't began to cover what I felt. All of the planning was wasted – and I was to die for something I didn't even do!

I wanted nothing more than to sink down, close my eyes, and convince myself this was all just a bad dream.


	2. Prison for Two

Chapter Two

Prison for Two

**I've hardly had any time to write this week. I was working so many hours this week, and I've been quite busy with other things, as well. I hope this chapter is good enough, but I feel it's a little sub-par.**

**I start school this week, as well, so updates may take a bit longer than usual.**

**Thank you so much for the reviews, and enjoy!**

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I wasn't sure how long it took me to get to Fort Charles. I didn't care. I was in a daze. It still seemed like I had imagined it – me, arrested for treason. I didn't want to believe it, but, the closer we got to Fort Charles, the more real it seemed.

I could barely manage to think of how I ended up in this situation. As I put one foot in front of the other, my wrists shackled, and a man gripping each of my upper arms, I couldn't think of _how_ I was just given a death sentence. Had I done something awful when I had time traveled and not known it? I liked to think that I would remember doing something awful – only in this instance. It was better than being completely clueless as to _why_ I was being arrested.

Things seemed more awful yet as I entered Fort Charles. It was a nightmare come to life.

Prison.

The walls of the prison were made gray stone. They were absolutely unbreakable. It kept you from escaping and, immediately, I felt as if I were going to go insane. It truly was a prison.

My heart pounded inside my chest, and I tried to ignore the prisoners in the cells, but I could feel their stare on me. They were talking about me. I was the newbie in the prison, and, worst yet, I was a female.

"'Ere's the new 'ne, lads!" one in a cell behind me bellowed in a thick Cockney accent. "Ain't she a pre'y li'l thing? What could a gi'l like he' do to end up 'e'e?"

I could feel my knees going weak and my heart pumping even faster. For once, I was grateful that there were soldiers holding onto me. I was sure that I would have fallen over, otherwise.

Fear was overwhelming me. I didn't belong with these people. The look in their eyes were ones that only criminals could posses – someone who stole or killed without emotions. True, I had made some mistakes (some illegal), but they hardly qualified for being put in jail, much less being killed over!

Cell after cell seemed to empty, but the soldiers escorted me further yet down the row of cells. I supposed they wanted the traitor separated from the rest. I peaked inside all of the cells – they were so dirty. There was no bed, and the flooring was the same gray stone as the walls.

The sun hadn't even risen yet, and torches lit the hallway of the prison. It was eerie, almost ghostly. Shadows danced against the walls. It fit the mood perfectly. The torches served as almost a foreshadowing to my inevitable death. Those would be the death of me in a day.

At the fifth cell from the back, away from all the other prisoners, the soldiers stopped. One – the one who gave me the warrant for my arrest – stepped away from the group behind me and came forward. I heard keys jingling in the silence, and, soon enough, I put an object to the sound. He slid the key into the lock. His eyes never drifted towards me, and kept them intently on the unlocking my cell.

He turned the key and opened the cell. I was all but thrown into it by the soldiers who held my arms. I heard the slamming of the cell door. I turned around quickly to face the entrance. The door to the cell was closed, and bars surrounded me, caging me in. I was, in every sense of the word, in a prison.

My chest became tight, and the only thing I could focus on was that I was locked in the cell until tomorrow – my final day.

As I watched the soldiers walk away. I tried to think not like Will, but like myself, were I not engulfed in a thick fog of fright and confusion.

I walked to the cell door and gripped the metal bars tightly. My jaw clenched, and all I could bring myself to do was look at them for a moment.

"You have the wrong person!" I screamed. "Come back!"

They didn't turn back around. A sob constricted my throat.

"If I were really a traitor, what the hell would I be doing in Port Royal?!"

The soldiers continued to walk away from me. They were closer to the prisoners that I had seen while coming in.

There was nothing I could say to them to make them turn around, unlock my door, and let me go back to Mrs. Ashford's Bakery. There was nothing that would let me go back to normalcy. There was nothing that would let me see Will one last time.

Fear ran over me, as cold as ice. I was completely frozen in fear, numb from the realization that my life was nearly over. I felt completely sick.

My grip loosened onto the bars, and I sank down to my knees, trying to believe that I would be granted some sort of forgiveness and be freed.

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I wasn't sure how much time had passed since my arrest and the time I arrived in Fort Charles to the time that I had heard footsteps in the hallway behind me.

I had moved myself to one of the walls of my cells and sat on the floor, staring distantly to the cells of the other prisoners. I could not be here. I found myself repeating the same sentence in my head: _I don't belong here._

It gave me some sort of comfort. It made me believe that when I would be brought in for questioning, like the guard promised I would, that I would somehow convince whomever that I was innocent, and I would go free.

It seemed so true, so feasible. I would be let go in just a few hours, and I could pretend like this had never happened.

But, where would Will and I go from there?

I decided that was something we would decide after I got out of prison alive.

Eventually, sun was what lit the prison, instead of fire. I couldn't bring myself to look at the fire. It would be the death of me in a day.

I heard footsteps behind me, but I didn't bother looking behind me to see who it was. I knew that it was just soldiers. I didn't even care to see _them_. I just wanted to get out of here.

A tiny part of me wondered if these were the soldiers that would come and let me go.

The soldiers stopped at the cell next to mine, and I saw a head full of brown, curly hair, in the middle of three soldiers. It was Will Turner – my Will that I planned to run away with tomorrow. The bastards had arrested him, too! Why?! He had done nothing!

I instantly reacted, realizing that he was in prison with me – and prison was _not_ the place to see him.

"Will!" I said, quickly standing up.

Will's brown eyes, dull today, turned dark when he saw me. At that moment, I knew that his fate was no better at mine, but I refused to let myself think about it.

"They have you, too," he said, looking at me.

"Will, what's going on? What are we doing here?" I asked.

One soldier unlocked the door to his cell, and he walked in without protest. He went to me. I placed my hands on the bars, and he put his over mine.

"I'm arrested for piracy," he said frankly.

My stomach sank. Piracy. It was what we were leaving Port Royal for.

I quickly made myself realize that he was arrested. Only I knew of this, and I had kept the secret to myself.

"Will, I didn't tell anyone, I swear --"

"I know," he interrupted.

There were a few moments of silence where I wondered if he questioned my honesty.

"I trust you," he said. "I just don't know how it got out."

I wondered if he really did trust me. After all, I was here, and it would have been mindless to tell Lord Beckett that there was a criminal hiding in Port Royal. He had to trust me!

"I just don't know why you're here," he said hopelessly.

"An accessory to your crime and treason," I answered.

As Will remained speechless, I heard keys jingling in the lock to my cell. This was no time for him to say nothing. I had to get answers while I could.

"Were you just arrested?" I asked.

After a few moments, he blinked and tried to bring himself to answer the question.

"N-No," he stuttered. "Questioning -- I think you're next."

All hope in proving my innocence was useless now. Will was in for piracy, and I was in for treason. I guessed that questioning was nothing short of hell.

My cell door creaked open.

"Treason?" he asked me. "Christine... what --"

"I don't know," I said, going towards the door. The three soldiers that escorted Will were now waiting for me. "Like I said: What are we doing here?"


	3. Questioning

Chapter Three

Questioning

**I'm so sorry for the wait! Again, school has gotten the best of me, and I've hardly had time to write – but, I did!**

**I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and, as always, thank you for the reviews!**

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As the soldiers escorted me for questioning, I stopped wondering why I was in jail, but how Will was in jail. He had told no one that he had been a pirate except me. I remembered I had promised him the evening he told me that I would keep his secret safe, and I had. Were it not for the fact that I was in jail, I was sure that Will would have thought that it was me who said something.

I tried to think off who it was that could have turned both Will and I in. No one would be that heartless except Mrs. Ashford – and she very well could have been behind my arrest and told such an extravagant lie without batting an eyelash. I had a feeling our arrests were combined. She couldn't have pulled piracy out of thin air and guessed right, could she? I immediately wondered if she was behind turning both of us in.

But... It was just Will and I in the bakery the night that he told me of his piracy. She wouldn't have been able to hear.

It was so easy for me to jump to conclusions that she had, indeed, turned both of us in. In the short time from my cell to questioning, I realized that it would be impossible for Mrs. Ashford to be behind Will's arrest. We were alone, the few times that we discussed his past, and we were most certainly alone the night he broke the news to me.

I was utterly confused, but refused to realize that I was defeated. I still believed that, by questioning, there was a way to let Will and I go free, have us both pardoned, and pretend that neither of this happened.

Whenever I thought of that ideal possibility, the one that I could convince myself to be true so easily, I thought of Will's defeated face as he walked into the cell next to me. Questioning hadn't been kind to him, and I was sure he was given the death sentence, too. If they showed no mercy on a pirate who accepted piracy only to save the woman he had loved, I wondered what they would do to a person wrongly accused of treason.

I had expected to be shaking as I went in for questioning. My life depended on every word I said, if I blinked when I said something, or if I looked away from the interrogator's eyes. I was simply so overwhelmed with all of it that I couldn't afford to be nervous. The only way that I knew I was nervous was my sweating palms and my drying throat.

I went between two states of mind in my head. One minute, I didn't care about the questioning, since I was going to die tomorrow, anyway. I could tell an extravagant lie about how I was going to kill the King of England while living in Port Royal. The next minute, I felt that I needed to protect whatever I could of my life, and that every word mattered.

As I walked with the guards through the corridors of the prison, I was in the I-don't-give-a-shit state of mind. I walked with a sort of swagger that made me feel powerful, nearly cocky, about going into questioning, for some reason. If being in a prison hadn't driven me mad, I would have wondered if that was normal.

After walking through the corridors of the prison, we went into a conjoined building. At first glance, the entryway was nothing but gaudy. Paintings of who I could only guess were important political figures adorned the walls. Decorations were abundant. Antique vases were on tables. Was so posh a building something that I would be questioned in?

I didn't have time to absorb the atmosphere. I was quickly escorted from the entryway to a hallway that looked to be never-ending. The walls were so blank, so plain... so intimidating.

The confidence in my walk lessened as I looked at the hallway. Questioning would be at the end of this. I imagined it to be behind the door farthest back, and that would be the door that I would go to – the one farthest away, just to make the ordeal even more agonizing.

I felt more and more terrified, the closer I got to the end of the hallway. My fate would lay in that room. I wasn't ready to have the rest of my life be determined just a few days before my eighteenth birthday. My life would end under a lie, which could very well have been fabricated by Mrs. Ashford.

It seemed like an eternity later when we arrived at a dark-oak door halfway down the hallway. The guard on my right gave two sharp knocks and, momentarily, the door opened by another soldier dressed in red.

My eyes scanned the room. Was this the room for questioning? It was equally as gaudy as the rest of the building. There were paintings adorning the walls, vases on tables...

Above all, the room was bright, filled with sunshine, and overlooking the sea. I had expected questioning to take place in something like my prison cell, or in a questioning room like at a police station, not at a posh room by the sea.

My legs began to tremble, and my heart began to beat louder yet. I wondered if anyone could hear my heart.

On the other side of the room, a man wearing a blue uniform stood up from behind a light oak desk. He had a smart-ass look on his face and his hands clasped behind him. It seemed that he would take pleasure in questioning me – or more.

"Those won't be necessary," the man with the blue uniform said to the soldiers by me.

I noticed he had a powder white wig atop his head. That made me all the more wary of him – he looked absolutely smarmy with it on, as if it gave him some sort of absolute power. He was simply deciding a person's fate, after all.

The man on my right dug a key out of his pocket and unlocked the shackles around my wrist. I looked at my now-freed wrists to the man in the blue uniform – my questioner.

"Nor will you," my questioner said to the soldiers accompanying me.

I looked from my questioner to the two soldiers next to me. My chest became tight. I suddenly wanted them to stay. I didn't want to be left alone with this man!

With those three words, the three guards escorting me left the room. Only the one that had let us in at the door earlier was the one left in the room, probably just to make sure I didn't kill the questioner.

"By all means, take a seat," he said, no emotion in his voice. His facial expression, however, was still looking forward to the questioning.

I looked from the questioner's blue-green eyes to the mahogany chair, cushioned with red velvet, then back to his eyes. He gestured to it.

"Need I do it for you myself?" he asked, annoyance in his voice.

I broke away from his gaze again and looked at the chair, then went to it. I was terrified for the questioning to begin. I was, once again, surprised at how quickly my emotions could change from confident to terrified.

I sat in the chair, resting my elbow on the right arm of the chair, crossing my legs. I could feel the questioner moving towards me, and then I saw him from the corner of my eye. He then went to the other side of the desk and looked at me. I felt like a mouse, and he was an eagle.

"Name?" the questioner asked.

"Christine Werden," I said simply.

"Age?" he asked.

"Seventeen."

He paused and thought, all while keeping my gaze. "Seventeen," he repeated. "So young for committing such heinous crimes."

I sighed softly. There was no point in protesting. I would be killed tomorrow, anyway.

"I didn't commit any crime," I said.

The questioner had obviously heard that line too many times. He moved onto the next question without skipping a beat.

"That's the most unique accent I've ever heard," he said. "Would you mind telling me where you acquired it?"

My face instantly got hot. I was dead. There was no point explaining it without making it sound like I was a traitor. I couldn't say that I was from a country independent of Britain that didn't exist yet.

I was in a corner that I couldn't back out of. One simple act of stupidity that night in Jamaica on a family vacation would be the thing that killed me.

My throat constricted, and I swore I was going to cry in front of the questioner. I looked down at my hands.

I was speechless.

"No," he continued. "Don't say anything."

I looked back up at him. He was opening a drawer in his desk. He took something red and threw it at me. It landed at my end of the desk.

It took me a moment to realize what it was that was in front of me. It was red, it looked like a wallet...

No, it was my clutch – the one that I had with me the night that I got drunk with Adam, the bartender, in Jamaica, and who was with me the night I had time-traveled.

I hadn't seen this for months. It had miraculously disappeared one day. It was at that moment that I realized Mrs. Ashford was behind my arrest. She was the one who took my clutch all those months ago – and I finally knew what she was saving it for. She was using it to get rid of me permanently, and in the most manipulative way possible.

I felt absolutely sick.

With shaking hands, I reached for it and opened it. I disregarded the cell phone, compact, and make-up in there. I immediately went to my passport and ID. I took them out. They were as water-damaged as I remembered them. I could tell the person in both pictures were me, and the date of birth and the full name...

I looked up to the questioner and dared myself to ask the question.

"Who did you get these from?"

A smirk came upon his face. "Mrs. Caroline Ashford."

The despicable bitch.

Blood pumped through my veins. I was torn between crying and doing something awful to the smart-ass questioner.

"She did her duty as a loyal subject to the Crown," the questioner continued. "Unlike some."

I kept my eyes on my passport picture. Times had been so simple once. Taking that picture in my junior year of high school made me ecstatic. I wondered how I ever could have gotten that excited over something like that. I longed for things to back to the way they were in such a deep way that it made every part of me hurt.

"You also have one accessory-after-the fact attached to you, Miss Werden," the questioner continued. "Of one William Turner. Do you know of him?"

Will's crime – the piracy.

"Yes," I said. "What about my accessory?"

"You are also to be killed tomorrow for piracy."

All words relating to death didn't effect me at the moment. I was too desensitized.

"I wasn't a pirate, though," I said, without emotion.

"You knew of Mr. Turner's secret and didn't come forward and address me. That is treason in itself, is it not, Miss Werden?"

Wonderful. Treason had so many meanings.

I thought about what the questioner said: _come forward and address me_. My heart stopped and I forced myself to look at the man's eyes.

"Are you Lord Beckett?" I asked in a low tone.

"Yes," he said simply.

I was face-to-face to the man that Will and I had tried to run away from all these months. We were one day away from doing so. All I could do was look at him. He hardly looked like something worth running from. I had expected him to be worth fearing. Were I not in a life-or-death situation, I might have laughed.

I looked back down at my passport and put it back on the table. "May I ask who turned in Will, since it concerns me?"

"Mrs. Caroline Ashford," Beckett replied

The bitch. She overheard us that night – _that_ was why she came in the back door! She had been listening somewhere inside of the bakery the entire time!

I closed my eyes for a moment and relished in the thought of killing _her_ – the woman who had ruined my life.

I had to convince Beckett that I was not guilty. I didn't care if I had to beg – just as long as I got out alive, I didn't care _what_ I had to do.

"Lord Beckett, I know you've heard this a million times, but --"

"You're not guilty," he interrupted, straightening himself from his interrogating stance against the desk. "And million might be an understatement, Miss."

He emerged from behind the desk and made his way behind me. "I see you're wearing red. Do you know what it symbolizes?"

I looked down at the skirt of my red dress and smoothed it casually with my hand. I was not up to playing mind games. I hoped that, in the end, it would free me, and I was desperate to be free.

"Fire," I said. "Blood. Death."

I was wearing a red dress the night I was out with Adam and entered Port Royal. I wondered if God was playing a joke on me with the color.

"True," he said. "All true."

This was getting me nowhere. I already knew that I was going to die by fire.

"What else?" he asked.

Fucking mind games.

"Passion," I said flatly, not caring.

I could feel how close Beckett was behind me. It began to scare me. I prayed that passion was not involved in this twisted game.

"So very close," he said softly.

I felt sick.

"Everyone has a high price for freedom," he continued. "Some are willing to pay it. Some aren't. It depends on morals... what others will think and suspect..."

I was terrified to ask Beckett what he was thinking.

"If you spend one night with me..."

Dear God, I was going to have to sleep with the man to save my life.

"Tonight..."

Tonight – the night before my death where he could so easily retract his offer.

"I will let you go free and pardon your crimes."

All I had to do was sleep with Beckett to save my life?

Will would find out. Will would wonder where I was tonight, and he would wonder how we got out of jail, alive and legally.

It was just sex. I could do it. It was worth doing to live. (Besides, I was hardly a virgin.)

I knew I would hurt Will so much by doing it. He might understand, though... if we both got out free, maybe he would see my side of it. He would see how much I cared for him, knowing full well that I was going to hurt him by saving both of our lives.

"If you let Will Turner and I go, I'll agree," I said.

There were a few moments of silence before I heard Beckett say, "What if it was only you I agreed to set free? If it meant saving yourself and letting your friend die at my hand... would you take life or death?"

Most would say death without a second thought. I had to think. Would I be able to live with myself if I got away, but the man who I may or may not have loved, Will, wasn't so lucky? I felt like a horrible person, pondering between life and death.

"Death," I said, out of guilt.

I suddenly wondered if the deal was off. Did I say the wrong thing? I prayed it was only a hypothetical question. I couldn't backtrack and say that I preferred life so easily.

"Do you believe you'll regret letting Mr. Turner go free with you?" he asked. "Love is a very dangerous thing. It will make one the most happy one moment, and in the next, the saddest."

I didn't expect such a response from someone set on killing so many people. Then again, ultimate pain was his goal, I assumed, and life, in many senses, could be worse than death. So many mistakes could be made, and you would relive them again and again... but, with death, it was over.

"Not at all," I said.

I felt him walking farther away, then realized that he was walking only so he could see me. Beckett had to be at least thirty or thirty-five years old. I thanked God there were no such things as statutory rape. It disgusted me to see that I would be sleeping with him tonight, but Will was more than that and then some.

He extended a hand. I stood up and shook it.

"We have a deal, Miss Werden. Your only punishment is to be next to the cell of the man who's heart you are to break."

I didn't need that reminder.

Beckett looked me dead in the eye, and in a quiet voice that was as hard as a rock said, "You can always back out."


	4. A Traitor's Punishment

Chapter Four

A Traitor's Punishment

**Thank you so much for the reviews and, as always, enjoy!**

**I'm sorry it's such a short chapter... I hope it has enough substance for you all!**

* * *

The entire way back to my cell, I was silent. All I could hear were Beckett's final words, repeating inside my head.

_We have a deal, Miss Werden. Your only punishment is to be next to the cell of the man who's heart you are to break._

Then his voice lowered and became as hard as stone.

_You can always back out._

I couldn't. I had to save myself and Will at any cost. Will may or may not be in the deal, and that made me more terrified than sleeping with a man to save myself ever could.

I was going into this on complete blind faith, or lack thereof. I had guaranteed myself immunity from being burned tomorrow, but Will still very well could be hanged. Beckett had never promised that Will was included in our deal. He had only asked questions, which may or may not have been hypothetical, about how I would _feel_.

It made me wonder what was going on in the mind of that madman. Was he asking those questions to make me squirm and make the day even more agonizing than I ever thought possible, or was he taking my questions into consideration?

It made me second-guess everything that I said to Beckett. It took the soldiers' footsteps and my willpower not to race back to Beckett's office and beg to include Will in our deal.

Questioning had been exactly what I thought it would be: it made me second-guess everything I said, and it made me terrified.

I felt sick once I realized that we were near the end of our journey in the corridors of the prison. I would have to see Will again – the man who may or may not be alive tomorrow, the only one alive who I knew I could trust, and whose heart I was going to break, irregardless of his fate.

I knew that Will's heart was not the only one I would be breaking in the process. I was going to break my own. I would burn a bridge with the same two people. We would become two islands that were once together, forced apart by nature.

Our walk down the corridors of the prison were over, and the jail cells were before us. My heart beat rapidly in my chest for fear of seeing Will. I couldn't bear to look at him. All I would be able to think about was what I would do to him, and that what I would do might not even help him.

The sixth cell from the back had the curly hair of Will, his back towards me. It made me feel like he already knew what had happened, like Beckett and I had talked in my cell. I felt as alone as if it already happened – what was the difference?

The doors stopped at my cell, the fifth cell from the back. One of the soldiers dug the key out of his coat pocket and put it in the lock. The cell unlocked loudly and opened squeakily.

Will, snapping out of his thoughts, turned his head quickly. In the brief time that I was gone, he looked like he had aged ten years, solely out of worry.

I wanted to cry. I could feel a lump constricting my throat, and my face getting hot.

"Christine," he said, instant fear in his voice.

His tone matched my thoughts.

I walked into my cell, still shackle-free. The door was quickly closed and locked behind me. I went to meet Will where our cells met. His face was absolutely panicked, and he looked terrified for my fate. He was expecting the worst, the fate that I had expected he was given.

His brown eyes were hard, and it was a look I never thought I could see on Will. It was a look a husband gives a wife when she comes home sobbing and she refuses to tell him. The husband knows the wife is in distress, and wants to help, but doesn't know how – and he's terrified it's about him. I couldn't believe that look was given towards me – a traitor.

"Christine, please don't tell me that you're to die tomorrow," he said, his hands gripped on the bars.

I gripped his wrists and drew my lips into a thin line, trying not cry. That look of Will's was like nothing I could ever imagine seeing on him, and it broke my heart.

A sob racketed through my body, and I felt the tears rush down my hot cheeks. It was too much – the guilt, the fear of Will not being as lucky as I... everything.

I truly was a traitor, and I didn't deserve a get-out-of-jail-free card.

I couldn't bear to look at Will. My gaze diverted to the floor. I had to lie.

I sniffled, and my eyes already hurt from the tears. That was what hurt least.

"Yes," I said.

I would do ten times the damage in the next few days if I was lucky. A white lie now wouldn't hurt.

"Yes," I repeated. "Burned at the stake. A traitor's punishment."

I still kept my eyes shut, the tears streaming down my cheeks. Will was silent. It was painful, yet it was still not what hurt the most.

"Oh, God..." Will said. "No..."

"I know," I said, shaking my head. "I know."

I swallowed, my throat thick.

"I don't know if I'll feel better to hear that you're the owner of the same fate," I said. "I'll feel some consolation in death if we'll be parted only briefly."

It shocked me how easily that came out.

"We will be," he said, resigned.

Beckett – that bastard. He needed to let Will go.

"But I don't want to be parted like this," he said. His voice was now much harder, much more angry.

I willed myself to open my eyes and meet his. My tears weren't residing, but I was realizing that Will might not be around for more than a day, and it would only selfish to try and avoid his gaze. I had brought it upon myself.

One of Will's hands went from the bar to my cheek, still wet with tears. I looked at him with gut-wrenching guilt. Even now, he was only thinking of me.

"You're the innocent one, and you're to die a worse death than me," he said softly, a sick combination of disgust and love in his voice. "How can that be?"

I shook my head in a refusal to speak and shrugged. "I don't know," I whispered.

I looked into Will's chocolate brown eyes. I closed my eyes for a moment and winced at the thought that this might be our final day together. Again, I found myself hating Beckett for not securing Will in the deal, and disgusted with myself for not making sure it happened.

"We have one day," Will said, his voice still soft.

I didn't want to spend it like this: sick with worry and guilt, waiting for the soldiers to come and get me to spend a night with Beckett, and think of Will, who's death was nearly set in stone.

"This isn't how I want to spend it," I whispered.


	5. Fear

Chapter Five

Fear

**My regular apologies about the shortness of the chapter and how long it took me to get another bit up!**

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I spent my day in the corner of my cell, where mine and Will's cell met. He sat in the corner of his, our fingers laced together, being as close as we could without the bars separating us. Our arms were touching, and even in our situation, I could still feel the heat of his body.

His body heat was like background music -- I could sense it, but I hardly paid attention to it. The fact that his fate was unknown and mine was secure overwhelmed me. I might lose the most important person in my life tomorrow.

I had to save myself. That was the most important. I could find a way to live by myself -- I was an extremely independent person, and I knew I could make it in this time period by myself. But could I be able to live with the fact that I could have been more assertive about securing the fate of the person who mattered most to me? If Will was hanged tomorrow, would I be able to say that saving myself turly was the most important?

I thought about it for what seemed like – or, very well could have been – hours. My head began to ache. I didn't realize I was even thinking about the situation anymore. I was comfortably numb, but the tingling of nausea in my stomach constantly reminded me of what I had done.

Neither of us said anything for the longest time. I was sure Will was going into this thinking that it was our last day alive. I was going into this knowing it would be our last day together. Will would never forgive me for what I was going to do tonight, even if we both were free. He would only find out about my deal with Beckett if we both went free.

It truly was a no-win situation. I was damned if Will died, and damned if Will lived.

Will living was, of course, better than the alternative. I just didn't want to have to tell him how we got out of prison and escaped our deaths

I could lie.

That was cowardly, but I didn't care. It would protect my future and Will's heart if I lied.

I began to devise some sort of plan in my head – one that involved outstanding evidence that we were both innocent and had been pardoned. We could get on a ship and go somewhere, and I could say that we would never discuss that again.

I was so numb that that sounded like the perfect plan – until I realized that lying was what landed me in prison in the first place. Mrs. Ashford had lied to have me put in prison and killed. Even though I knew the obvious fact that nothing good stemmed from lying, it was better than saying I slept with someone.

I sat uncomfortably in the numbing silence. It seemed as if the day would never end. I wanted it to end horribly. I wanted to make mine and Will's freedom official, I wanted to be able to put the guilt behind me and pretend like none of what was about to happen _had_ happened – but mostly, I wanted Will alive. I wanted to feel the pain that I would feel if Will found out about how I secured our freedom, because I knew he would be alive.

It seemed like hours before Will spoke up.

"Are you nervous, Christine?" he asked.

That was a good question. I wasn't as terrified with my fate as I was Will's. Mine was safe... almost. Will's was up in the air.

"Terrified," I said.

It was a few moments before Will spoke up again. His thumb grazed the back of my hand. I didn't look at him. I kept my eyes on the gray stone wall.

"It won't hurt as much as you think," he said to me.

Will was obviously trying to reassure me of the death he thought was imminent. I said nothing in response to it.

"It may at first," he said. "It'll feel like a burn at the bakery, perhaps..."

He was obviously bluffing. I was supposed to die by flames engulfing me, my tissues, bones, and heart melting.

I prayed to God that I was safe from that.

"I know it won't hurt," I said. "I'm not worried about the pain or death."

He paused.

"What are you afraid of, then?"

In return, I hesitated.

"The unknown."

* * *

I was given the rest of the afternoon to think. Will had barely spoken. I hadn't expected him to. He was going through emotions that I couldn't comprehend. He was sure this was his last day and, knowing him, made himself believe that both of our arrests had been his fault.

Meanwhile, I was left to sit in silence in a prison for a crime I did not commit.

Someone who I hadn't _truly_ thought about in months came to my mind. Adam, the man who had been with me the night I time-traveled, had undoubtedly been in the same situation that I was in. I was sure he had been in jail for a crime that he did not commit, one that was all my fault. History was repeating itself in the worst way possible.

I couldn't help but wonder what had become of Adam. Was he still in jail, still wrongly accused? And what about my parents and my older sister, Irene? Were they still mourning what they thought was my death?

I still was utterly confused when I thought about the fact that I was supposed to be dead, yet I had time traveled. For the first time, I wondered if, perhaps, I _had_ died, and I was in heaven.

Then again, if I was in heaven, I wouldn't be going through hell.

Moving for the first time in what seemed like hours, I tightened my grip on Will's hand, only to feel his grip tightening around me. I didn't look at him, for I knew that he was looking at me, and I couldn't bear to feel the guilt that I had when I first came back to the cell. I simply stared straight ahead at the wall and swallowed the lump growing in my throat.

"I'm so sorry," Will said to me.

I could feel his dark eyes on me, and out of the corner of my eyes, I could see his head turned towards me. I still didn't dare to look. I didn't want to sob in front of him again.

"I'm so sorry that I got you into this," he said softly, almost ashamed..

Even though I wasn't surprised that he was apologizing, I didn't want to hear it. I was more than likely going to be fine. It was I who needed to do the apologizing.

"It's Mrs. Ashford that I want to hear that from, Will," I said. "Not you."

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**I promise this is the last boring chapter. :D**

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	6. Saint Hallvard and Will

Chapter Six

Saint Hallvard and Will

**So sorry if the first bit is confusing. The italics is a memory that Christine is having, while the regular font is her current thoughts while in the cell.**

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"_Honestly, I didn't think you were that religious."_

_Will and I were sitting in the pews of Saint Hallvard's. My white-beaded rosary was clasped tightly between my fingers. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest simply because Will was sitting next to me._

I thought back to the day of when Will and I were in Saint Hallvard's church, the day that I swore in front of Mrs. Ashford. I had used my "sin" as an excuse to go be with Will. My heart was beating fast because Will was sitting next to me, still, but hardly for the same reason.

"_I'm not," I responded to Will. "Honestly, I don't even know who Saint Hallvard is."_

My gaze was still fixated on the gray stone wall. My hand was still intertwined with Will's. It gave me some sort of solace, knowing that he was next to me. Just a few precious hours with him could very well be all that I had with him.

At the same time, it made me feel guilty, it terrified me... just holding his hand while thinking about a simple memory of when we were in a church together made me feel a thousand different emotions. I knew it was because our fate as a couple was as unknown as what tomorrow would bring for Will.

"_He defended a woman who was falsely accused of theft and feared for her life," Will told me._

I looked down from the gray walls to the gray floor. It was all the same; so bland... not unlike what I was feeling.

I closed my eyes in a meager attempt to escape the feeling, but knew that I was failing.

"_He was killed trying to keep her on board a ship. Saint Hallvard's patronage is for the innocence and virtuous."_

My blood ran cold and my eyes snapped open. Saint Hallvard was killed trying to protect an innocent woman.

Saint Hallvard was Will.

My chest felt like it was in a vice. Will would die tomorrow.

The world seemed to stop. I didn't want to believe that it was possible to lose someone so close to me. I couldn't be alone and feel like the blood was on my hands.

As I felt anxiety fill me, I longed for it all to be just a horrible coincidence.

* * *

The same thought pattern repeated in my head the rest of the day. It switched to me feeling the need to save myself, doing everything in my power to save Will, and now, Saint Hallvard's.

I wonder if Mrs. Ashford was happy. I was in a prison cell and miserable. The only thing that could make her more happy was me dead – still a small possibility. She would be more than pleased if Will's fate was up in the air, but I was still was the one that she had tried to kill in the first place.

It made me sick to my stomach that someone would make up that elaborate of a lie – accusing me of _treason_ – to get rid of me. I didn't know that someone could hate me that much. I didn't think that I had ever done anything that horrible to Mrs. Ashford. We were just two strong-minded people, and she viewed me as some sort of threat, I supposed.

What confused me was how I was a threat to _her_.

I was left to ponder that, among other things, the rest of the day. The only way I knew that day was passing was the sun on the gray wall. Gradually, the shadows of the cell bars would shift to the other side of the hallway.

I waited for a guard to come and take me. It would put me at ease to know that the end of my worrying was near.

Would I go through with my end of the bargain tonight even if Beckett said that Will wouldn't live? It would be stupid to say no -- I wanted to live. The only problem was that I couldn't live with the blood being on my hands.

And, of course, because I felt something for Will that I had never felt with someone before. I told him I had loved him just two nights ago, and I _still_ wasn't sure if I had meant it.

Whenever I heard footsteps in the corridors, my heart would jump in my chest, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was finally time. Each time that I heard the footsteps fade, my quickened heartbeat would go with it, and I could release the breath that I didn't know I was holding in.

It wasn't until the late afternoon that those footsteps became louder and ceased to fade. I saw a man come from the corridors, through the hallway of the prisoners, and, finally, stopping at my cell. I recognized the soldier who's footsteps they belonged to, the one with the chiseled jaw.. He had escorted me to questioning earlier.

He stopped at my cell and unlocked the door, glancing at me.

"Miss Werden, Lord Beckett requires your presence for more questioning," the soldier said.

I looked over at Will, who looked confused. With a dagger going into my heart, I realized that, if things didn't work out, this would be the last time I would see Will.

It was more than I could comprehend. I couldn't begin to fathom losing someone that close to me, this being the _final_ time that I would see them, for as long as I live.

I swallowed a sob and stood up. The fact that Will very well could live didn't register with me, nor the pain that I would feel in the following days when Will found out what happened, if he did survive. All I could think about was Will being hanged in the morning and the last thing that I would tell him would be a lie.

As I stood up, my heart beat rapidly in my chest, and my mouth going dry. Will stood up with me. I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye. I knew I was a coward.

"Christine, questioning for what?" Will asked me.

"I don't know," I lied.

I was both a coward and a traitor. Mrs. Ashford was right.

"I don't know how long I'll be in questioning," I continued. "Probably until after dark. Don't wait up for me."

Will still remained confused. "What are you talking about? Of course I'll stay awake for you."

My feeble attempt was worthless. I didn't want him staying awake the entire night wondering what had happened to me. I would feel a hundred times worse if that was how he spent his last night.

I kissed Will through the bars of the cell, trying to memorize exactly how his lips felt against mine and how his kiss always said "I love you a thousand times more than you love me".

In that one, possibly-final kiss, I felt all emotions go. I went numb, and a part of me felt like it had died in just a few moments' time.

I was the first to break away from the kiss, solely because I couldn't take it anymore. My breath caught in my throat, and, as I looked into Will's eyes, I couldn't think of anything to say.

"Goodbye, Will," I said.

That was what I knew would be either my final goodbye to him, or my final goodbye to us.

The look in Will's eyes shattered my frozen heart. I could see that he was either thinking something bad was going to happen to me during "questioning", or that this would be our final moment together. I wanted so badly to confess, but I wouldn't let myself. What if Will were to die tomorrow, and that was what he was thinking of at the last moment – bedding our enemy to save myself?

Will said nothing back to me. I walked out of my cell and waited by the soldier, who was locking my cell. There were no shackles – probably on orders of Lord Beckett.

As the soldier escorted me away, I noticed that he was young, only a few years older than me. He was probably a new edition to Lord Beckett's mini-empire in Port Royal. I imagined he was thinking that he had gotten the best position he would ever have in his line of work – escorting a seventeen-year-old female traitor to questioning, by himself, no less. How rare!

Unlike the last time I went to visit Beckett, I was confident, sure that I would find a way to my innocence, my fear only becoming prominent moments before I had to see him. Now, my legs felt like lead, and I felt nauseated.

I swore to myself that when I got out of prison, Mrs. Ashford would suffer just as I had.

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**Again, I'm sorry if this has been moving slow, but I _promise_ that it will pick up next chapter!**

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	7. The Deal

Chapter Seven

The Deal

**I'm so sorry about the wait for the long-awaited chapter! -ducks from angry readers-**

I was escorted into the same conjoined building as I did when I was brought in for questioning that same day. I paid less attention to the gaudiness of the paintings than I had before. My heart was beating inside my hallow chest too rapidly. Everything was on the line, but none of it was in my hands.

Instead of going to the hallway, like earlier, I was escorted nearby the entrance to the dark oak stairs. The soldier stopped at it, and I followed suit.

"Up the stairs, third door on the right," he instructed.

I expected to be escorted or, at the very least, be told something more than directions, but the soldier simply walked away from me and towards the exit. I blinked, somewhat stunned, then began to go up the stairs. I put one hand on the railing and the other picking up the skirts of my dress.

Just as I had felt earlier in the day with questioning, I was terrified and utterly nauseated. I didn't understand why I was so nervous – my neck wasn't on the line. Did I honestly care for Will so much that the thought of losing him made me feel so helpless? I wasn't the kind to put my heart and soul into a relationship, and here I was – on the verge of having a panic attack over whether Will would die, much less having one about breaking up.

The inevitable what-if kept popping into my mind: What if I was the one that lived? I couldn't live with myself if I could have done something more to save Will. He was the only person I had. I knew I could live alone, even in this century, but I didn't want to go through the pain of having to, and to be haunted by the memory of him.

I placed a hand on my stomach and took a deep breath, my climb up the stairs almost done.

More than now, I felt that I needed Will. I wanted to cry and have him give his strong, familiar embrace. It vaguely occurred to me that I might not ever feel that again.

I reached the top of the stairs and went down the hallway, down to the third door on the right, just as the soldier instructed. I hesitated, wondering whether to knock or simply walk in.

I decided with the latter, opening the door a bit hesitantly at first. I peered my head into the room to see if anyone was there. No one was – not I could see, at least.

I closed the door behind me gently. The room was dim, the curtains weren't yet pulled back, despite it being the late afternoon. The room was absolutely silent. I felt the need to walk even more quiet on the hardwood floors.

I was definitely in a bedroom. There was a bed on one side of the room, draped with a green comforter, and on the other side were some chairs with a small table, maybe for playing cards before going to bed. While the cynical part of me wondered if Beckett had cards in his plan for the night as some sort of a prelude to the evening, the normal part of me shuddered.

The walls were a plain white, adorned with various paintings – one was of a sitting nobleman, and another appeared to be of a wedding. There was a writing desk by the card table, just in case Lord Beckett wanted to work himself to sleep.

There was nothing exceptionally elaborate about the room. It was different than the rest of the house – plain. The eerie silence was the only thing that remained the same. I half expected to hear a voice in one of the shadows. The atmosphere did nothing to settle my racing heart. For a few minutes, I stood in the silence, anticipating _something_. Dwelling on the silence made me only more nervous, and I felt the need to pace the room. Instead, I took another deep breath in a weak attempt to relax myself.

It didn't work. I began to pace, then decided to go to the full length mirror by the dressing area, which was somewhat near to the card area. I found that I was biting my lip, my nervous habit, and stopped doing so at once.

I could see that I was exhausted. The color in my face was beginning to fade, and my blue eyes were dull. In just twelve hours, I managed to look drained. Cynically, I thought that life and death did that to a person.

In my head, I began to go over what to say to Beckett: _Is Will in our deal? Do you swear to let all charges against me dropped? Am I free to go after tonight?_

My rehearsal was cut short by the door to the room opening. I didn't move or say anything, I simply kept my gaze on my reflection. I could see it in my eyes that I was scared, but I didn't care. That wasn't going to change anything. I was still going to follow through with my end of the deal -- I was _not_ going to let Will or I die on false charges!

I heard the door close, then footsteps, which slowly came closer. It was Beckett, I knew it. I could tell just by his footsteps. He wasn't walking briskly, like a soldier or a member of the household's help. This was a man who wanted to inflict pain on someone and take their time while doing it – a true cynic.

Step...

My heart pounded even faster in my chest.

Step...

The steps made my blood run cold. I could have sworn the footsteps would never stop. It was utter agony just hearing the steps.

The room went silent, finally. I still refused to look to see if it was Beckett. I could see a figure out of the corner of my eye, but kept my eyes on my reflection. I could hear nothing except my beating heart, and every muscle in my body tensed.

"Miss Werden," Beckett said.

I looked to my left to see Lord Cutler Beckett. I didn't quite know what his facial expression, but I knew that I didn't want to find out what it was.

I tried to speak, but I couldn't find anything to say. I had never been so terrified in my life. I was preparing myself to hear the worst possible words that I could. It was so unknown and sickening that I wanted to cry.

"Will's in our deal right?" I asked.

Beckett remained silent for a moment or two, and I could have sworn that he was going to say no. I held my breath for the answer. I tried to stare him down, but I knew that it wasn't working.

Beckett's blue-green eyes turned instantly sadistical, which made me even more nervous. He was either trying to make me squirm, or about to deliver some news that would please only him.

"If you want to explain to Mr. Turner how both of you were freed from felony charges... because it's quite unlikely that even that naïf would believe that you both miraculously escaped death."

My throat and chest both felt like they were being constricted. I didn't have time to embrace the wave of relief that came over me. Now all I could think about was how I would tell Will that I betrayed him. I wouldn't have to. Maybe he would buy my bullshit excuse.

"Do you swear to God that all charges will be dropped against us?" I asked Beckett softly.

He began to walk towards me, his eyes not straying from mine. It made me uncomfortable.

"If that is your wish," he said.

I swallowed the nausea churning in my stomach. I had to ball my hands into fists to keep them from shaking. I couldn't afford to look as nervous as I felt.

"And I'm free to go after tonight?" I confirmed.

"You're free," he repeated.

It would just be one hellish night that I would have to spend to have an equally hellish effect on mine and Will's relationship. It was better than being burned at the stake or having Will hanged. Those were my only reasons to do this – and, of course, to make Mrs. Ashford suffer just how I had.

I sighed and looked at the man that was going to save me, yet make my life a living hell. I could simply thank God that it was only sex – I didn't care about it.

"Let's just get this over with," I said to him.

I took all of my emotions out on Beckett that night.

I had slapped him across the face, pissed that he put me in the position of compromising between freedom and the man I trusted. I could have only one, and I knew I had chosen freedom by sleeping with him.

I had grabbed him by the neck, furious at Mrs. Ashford and the entire situation. She made me out to be a traitor and had listened in when Will had told me about his act of piracy. If she had kept quiet or told even a day later, it would have been mine and Will's last night in Port Royal.

I was sure that Beckett hardly cared that I was using him as a stress reliever. He fought back as hard as I was fighting, trying to show that he was the one in control, and always had been. It made me force myself to show him that _I_ was in control more than he was.

It was nothing but a fight that night, trying to show the other that they had more control. He was trying to show that he was the ultimate manipulator and sadist. I was showing that I would not be shoved around by a man who would otherwise give me death. I was stronger, and I was going to fight for myself and Will better than that.

Even though I liked to think that I had been the victor, I was sure it turned out to be a tie.

Afterwards, I lied on my side on the other side of the bed, my back to Beckett. I wanted to forget the night had happened. I wanted morning to come and to see Will again, alive, and to try and lead a normal life.

My heart raced with emotions. The worst was over. I would simply have to spend the night. I knew I would be awake throughout the entire night and staring at the ceiling I didn't want to relive the entire day, the one that I so badly wanted to convince myself had been only a dream.

The sheets to my chest and my back still to Beckett, I said, "If the whole purpose of this was to make me lose my virginity to you, you failed."

Knowing him, he would find even more pleasure in finding out that this had been my first time. Of course, it wasn't.

I could hear the smirk in his voice. "It wasn't."

At least he didn't think that he had gotten my virginity, on top of everything.


	8. Mania

Chapter Eight

Mania

**I have _finally_ have a long -- and a long-awaited -- chapter up! It really shocks me, since I've been so busy with school and work, that I've been able to make a chapter this big in... two weeks... -suddenly feels embarrassed- Anyways, enjoy, and remember -- reviews make day!**

* * *

I stayed awake nearly the entire night. Thought after thought ran through my mind. Despite the fact that it was a humid October evening, I felt cold – physically, mentally, and emotionally frozen.

Will's neck was safe. My body wouldn't be burned. We were free. What more could I ask for?

Just that I wouldn't have to tell faithful Will what I had done to save us both.

He would never forgive me. I felt the dull pain under my frozen skin and bones. It wouldn't go away. It stayed constant, throbbing, threatening to shatter the ice that was now me.

I knew nothing would be the same between Will and I again. I just didn't know _how_. Would he yell at me? No, that wasn't Will... Once he found out, would he nod once, but not know what to say from there? Unlikely. The only thing that seemed logical was for him to storm off and never speak to me again. I was too exhausted to know if he would even do _that_.

My chest tightened once again. I felt like I was going to start sobbing. My throat constricted.

No – this couldn't be happening. I couldn't sob and show any sign of weakness. First off, I couldn't afford to have Beckett see me like that. Embarrassment was beat out by all other punishments, except one. God knew he very well could retract his offer.

I didn't care. My eyes squeezed closed, and I turned my face to the pillow, which smelled faintly of lavender.

I wasn't sure how I did it, but I didn't cry. Had I cried out all that I could this morning when I realized that I would have to betray Will to save us? Or was I on the verge of a mental breakdown?

Worse yet – was it both?

My breath became shallow. I clutched one hand to my chest in a weak attempt to steady my breathing. Never would I have expected to get so anxious, much less in a situation like this. I could control any anxiety of mine.

I wanted out of this house. I wanted to hide this from Will and never have yesterday, October 6, be uttered aloud again. Maybe I could move on and have a meager attempt with a future with the man I lied to – even though the last thing I wanted was a marriage.

I realized I would have to get married to Will if I were to keep this a secret. That was the only way I could lie to him and pretend nothing happened. We needed each other, and the only way was through marriage, through Will's point of view. Housing together as Will and Christine Turner, the brother and sister from Port Royal, didn't suffice.

If I did tell Will, I'd be alone. I could handle it, but Will couldn't.

Fucking Beckett.

* * *

I stayed awake the entire night. I was terrified, anxious, and horribly regretting what I did – but not the reason.

I waited impatiently for morning to come. I wanted to get out of this bed, away from the man I slept with. I wanted to do something awful to Mrs. Ashford. I wanted to harm her just how she had harmed me.

As I lay contemplating these things, I looked at the curtains. It seemed that, ever so slightly, it was getting lighter outside.

That was when I heard Beckett stirring next to me. My heart began to pound, and I thought that he might want me a second time before I left. I couldn't bear to see his face again, much less have sex with the man.

Instead, he said nothing to me. I heard some more stirring, and then rustling for some clothes. I felt the pressure leave off of his side of the bed, and realized that he was now out of bed. I remained silent and kept my eyes on the curtains, waiting for him to say something. The silence was deafening and seemed to last minutes, although I'm sure it was no more than ten seconds.

"I'll send one of the maids for you," he said shortly.

I still didn't look at him, but I did hear more rustling of clothes.

I looked blankly ahead, my gaze shifting to the shadowed wall. I was grateful the night was over, but the real task was ahead. Surviving Beckett's wrath seemed like the easy part. I could hardly believe I was so nervous about sleeping with him. Had I honestly been that nervous that I couldn't see that the hardest part would be explaining this to Will?

I heard Beckett leave the room, and I lifted and turned my head to see that he was gone. The room was empty, and the first thing that I saw was my pile of clothes by the foot of the bed. Nausea churned in my stomach. I began to long that last night was a dream.

I quickly got out of bed and slipped on my form-fitting, floor-length chemise by the bed, waiting for a maid to come in. I looked from the unmade bed to the clothes in the pile by the floor. It was by far the most unromantic morning-after I had ever had.

Before long, a maid with curly brown hair walked in, eyes mostly to the floor. I didn't care what she was thinking. I was beyond caring.

"Good morning, Miss Werden," she said.

She probably thought I was Lord Beckett's new whore, the young, skinny, pale brunette. I wouldn't degrade myself and think it. She could think it as much as she wanted.

I said nothing in return. The maid picked the clothes up from the floor and set them on the bed. She inspected my red dress, the one that had gotten me into this mess.

"D'you want a different dress?" she asked. "We have some lovely green and brown ones --"

"No," I interjected sharply.

I didn't care how much bad had happened to me when I wore that. I just wanted to get out of here.

"As y'wish," she said softly.

* * *

The maid dressed me, and I began to walk down the stairs with her. My heart pounded in my chest with excitement of finally leaving this place, yet it pounded with dread of seeing Will and explaining the truth. I felt like I was leaving Hell, only to go to an equivalent.

"Lord Beckett would like to see you in his office before he lives, Miss," the maid said to me.

I nodded and went to his office, knowing full where it was – down that hallway where I had been almost twenty-four hours ago, prepared to hear that I was to be burned at the stake, five days before my eighteenth birthday.

I stopped at the beginning of the hallway and looked down it. It seemed even longer than last time, and more eerie, with wall-mounted lanterns lighting the way. I felt like I couldn't go down it again. It felt like I was facing persecution all over again.

What did Lord Beckett want? Was he finally taking back his offer on Will or I?

Terrified that this had to do with my life, I picked up the skirts of my dress and ran down the hallway. The dimly lit hallway was only a blur. As I rushed past the wall-mounted lanterns, they seemed to become only orange orbs that swam around me.

It seemed like I was in a dream. I was becoming sober from what happened, but now terrified as to what Beckett needed to say. I was running while in a daze. Nothing around me seemed to make sense. The more I thought about it, my dream-like state was no dream at all. I was finally going crazy from Mrs. Ashford's obsession to have me dead, betraying the only person who I would ever trust the same way that they trusted me, and my very shaky outlook at the future.

I reached the end of the hallway. It took what seemed like ages to get to it.. Breathless, I pounded on Beckett's door. My chest heaved and I swallowed, trying to even my breathing, but to little success.

A few moments later, Beckett opened the door and examined me. I couldn't help but wonder what his smug look was for.

"What do you want?" I asked him.

He blinked, silent. "You arrive breathless at my door, shouldn't I be asking that?"

I wished the stubborn bastard would just tell me what it was he needed to.

"Come in," he said, stepping aside.

I went in, hiding my reluctance. The same room brought back the same fear I had when I was being questioned. Goosebumps ran over my body when I scanned the room, particularly when I set my eyes on the chair I had sat in, waiting to hear that I was to be burned at the stake.

Beckett closed the door behind me and went behind his desk. I followed him. Both of us were silent. He rummaged through one of his drawers and pulled out a small, red pouch and put it in my hands. Things clinked inside. I furrowed my brows and looked at it,then him. Beckett kept his stony green-blue eyes on me, and I looked back down at the pouch. His stare literally made me ache, and a distraction was greatly welcomed.

I drew at the silky, gold string on the pouch. Opening it, I saw that there were coins inside.

_Coins_, was all I could think. _What the hell?_

Just as I was about to voice my thoughts, Beckett said. "It should be more than enough for your voyage, both you and Turner."

Beckett was trying to pay me for the night before. What a twisted man. My blood ran cold and I became nauseated.

"I am not your whore," I spat, tossing the pouch onto his desk.

His stare turned me to stone. I felt immobile and was thankful when he looked away to gather the few stray coins that had left the pouch.

"I'm giving you money for a voyage," he said, putting a few coins back in the pouch. "God knows you two hardly have enough."

"We have enough," I bit back. "I do not need your money."

It was true. We did have enough – barely. We would manage. I would refuse to be his whore.

Beckett put the pouch back in my hand, his hands tightening the grip around mine. His eyes were sharply focused on mine.

"Keep it," he said lowly, "before I change my mind."

I jerked my hand from his grasp and started to back away. I held the pouch in my hand, only out of obligation. He made no motion to come back.

I turned around and went out the door and walked down the hallway calmly as if I was trying to regain my dignity back.

I wanted to get away from Beckett, the prison, Mrs. Ashford, Port Royal... everything. I couldn't deal with this anymore.

The dream-like state returned, the one that made me question my sanity and the reality of everything around me. It was a numb feeling – one that I had no choice but to welcome.

I walked down the hallway, back to the entryway, and back to the connecting prison. I was only vaguely aware of the soldier that walked me back to the prison. Our footsteps were the only thing I could hear. I was so numb I couldn't hear my own thoughts.

It didn't even register with me until I was halfway down the hallway that I would _actually_ have to explain to Will what had happened. We had both been free, and now I had to lie to him. I had to see him and feel the guilt I had been bracing myself for for twenty-four hours.

The walk to the prison could have taken hours or less than a minute, I wouldn't have known the difference. I felt separated from reality and could only think of Will.

Eventually, we did arrive to the prison. There, removed from the other prisoners, was Will Turner, slumped against bars, his chin tucked into his chest. He was asleep. I couldn't help but wonder how long he had kept his promise, fighting off his heavy eyes, wondering what my fate had been, and praying that his reasoning as to why I had not returned the entire night had been wrong.

The soldier stopped at Will's cell, dug out the key from his pocket, and put it in the lock. At this, Will's eyes immediately snapped open and looked at the guard. I could see there were dark circles under his eyes – he had stayed up until just minutes ago.

Will then looked to me, and all of my bracing in the world could not have prepared me for the look he gave me. Despite the fact that he was utterly exhausted, he looked shocked and relieved. He had feared me for dead. I couldn't believe that he worried or cared that much about me.

Will simply stared at me with his brown eyes. With that look, I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I felt so horrible for not telling Will in the first place what was happening. He thought I was being tortured or had already died.

"Christine," he said, breathless.

He stood up and looked like the life had been sucked out of him overnight from exhaustion and worry, but relief slightly lit up his face. His face was pale, the life from his eyes was gone, and he looked like he had aged ten years.

The soldier turned the key in the lock and opened the door for Will. He looked from the soldier to me.

"I thought the executions wouldn't happen until later," he said to me.

"They won't be happening," the soldier said.

As if Will could look any more pale, even more color drained from his face.

"Lord Beckett has found outstanding evidence against the two of you that proves your innocence," the soldier explained to him. "Both of you are free to go."

Will blinked. That hadn't set in yet. He thought this was all just a dream, just like I had wished for yesterday to be.

"No," Will said, shaking his head in denial, looking at me. "You were taken in for questioning the entire night."

"That's when they found us not guilty," I said. "I plead not guilty – for both of us."

It wasn't a lie, necessarily.

In a daze, Will walked out of the cell and looked at me. "This must be a dream."

I shook my head. "Let's thank God it's not."

I began walking towards the exit of the prison, the same way that we had entered yesterday. Will didn't follow me.

I stopped and turned around. "Come on!" I said, pissed off. I didn't want to be in this God-forsaken place any longer than I had to, and I snapped more easy that I normally would have.

Will began walking, and we went toward the exit together. "But what about the papers?" Will asked me. "Aren't there any papers we have to sign or obtain?"

"No," I said. "Beckett's taken care of it."

_Or... he will_, I thought to myself.

I continued to walk, my pace quickening. I didn't want to answer the questions that I knew he would ask.

"Was it questioning the entire night?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"Were you tortured?"

"No."

"Did he lay a finger on you?"

"No!" I snapped.

He was quiet for a moment, but we continued to walk briskly. "What sort of questions did he ask you?"

"Does it really matter?!" I said, my eyes flickering with anger. "I came out alive, you came out alive – this shouldn't have happened. We need to get out of here while we can. Mrs. Ashford will kill you or me..." I took a pause, "or both, otherwise."

I didn't bother to look at Will. I kept my face morose as I walked ahead. I couldn't bear to look at Will.

"Christine, I thought you were dead -- I feel that I deserve some sort of reply," he said.

I knew he deserved one. I just didn't want to give him one.

"Now isn't the best time," I said. "We just need to get out of here before we're sent back. We'll go back to Mrs. Ashford's and Brown's Blacksmith, pack everything we need as quickly as we can, and get on the next voyage to wherever."

I looked at Will, and he seemed utterly confused, like I had just spoken a foreign language. I might as well have. I couldn't understand myself, but it came out automatically. I wondered if, subconsciously, it was my way of not talking about _it_.

Will only sighed, but continued to walk with me, both of us getting closer to the exit of the prison. My heart pounded in my chest – this time it was the temporary excitement of seeing Mrs. Ashford and, somehow, making her suffer. It was a feeling brought on only by exhaustion and knowing that it was the only thing I had to look forward to, but I didn't care. I was alive and more than ready to see the woman that wanted to kill me.

* * *

The silent walk back to Mrs. Ashford's and Brown's Blacksmith was unlike two people who had just won their freedom. It was reminiscent of a duo headed to their execution – which very well could have been us.

Just like the walk to the prison, the walk out of it was just as silent. Will was probably confused as to hell -- I wasn't myself, and he was probably wondering how we had escaped our deaths. I just wanted to get away. This place was nothing short of a living nightmare. The past four months were just that, and I needed to get out of here before I was truly driven insane.

We arrived at the heart of Port Royal, where both of our shops were. It was still dark outside, yet I still didn't know what time it was. I guessed that Mrs. Ashford was awake, but hadn't yet opened the store. I couldn't think of what to say to her, or even what to do to her. Maybe I would just gather my things and leave, maybe I would scream at her. I wasn't sure which.

We came to the familiar ones, saw the nearby stores and, finally, saw our own shops. My heart lurched in my chest at seeing _that_ store. _She_ was inside of there, smiling to herself, knowing that this was the day that she finally got rid of me.

We were now by the entrances of our stores. A mix of anxiety and excitement came over me. I didn't want to see the woman who wanted me dead, but I wanted payback.

"Grab everything you need and meet me back here ASAP," I whispered.

He nodded, his eyes still dead, but went inside Brown's Blacksmith. I took a deep breath and tucked my loose, wavy hair behind my ears. Was I ready to do this?

Before I realized what I was doing, my hand was turning the knob to Mrs. Ashford's Bakery for the final time.

I entered. Candles were still adorning the counter top and the windows, the fire still came from the oven, and there was someone still kneading the dough.

That someone was Mrs. Ashford.

Her pale, lantern-jaw face had a glow to it. If I didn't hate her, I would say that she looked beautiful. However, when she looked up, her brown eyes widened in shock. I wondered if she thought I was a ghost, or if she was shocked that I had gotten out, knowing that her evidence was false.

Rage rushed through my veins. All I could do was look at her, my breathing becoming shorter and shorter. I didn't realize that it was possible to hate someone so much – to want them to die a horrible and painful death, to make them suffer as much as you had suffered... it made me want to scream.

I said nothing to her, I simply stormed past the parlor, to the staircase, and up to my room. I could hear her footsteps behind me. I was not worried that she would kill me. If she was going to, I really didn't care.

"Christine," Mrs. Ashford said, once she was at the top of the staircase. "What the hell are you doing back here?"

I said nothing. I stormed into my room and went to my nightstand and opened my drawer, searching for anything I needed to bring with. She was in my room with me, at the entryway to my bedroom.

"I said, 'what --'" she began.

I cut her off. "Honest to God, Mrs. Ashford, you accused me of _treason_!" I screamed.

The room became quiet. My chest heaved with anger. Was she going to play stupid?

"What did I do to make you hate me so much?" I asked in a lower and much quieter tone.

Mrs. Ashford's lips pursed. Her eyes cast downward, and I felt only the utmost satisfaction. She was speechless. I would have smiled, were I not so pissed.

"You aren't one of _us_," she said, looking up.

I didn't care what she meant by that. She didn't realize or didn't care, so she kept speaking.

"You don't speak like us, you didn't dress like us, you don't know how to act like us..." She trailed off, then looked away, then back at me.

"Wh-" I began.

I swallowed, trying to comprehend what she said. She wanted me dead because I didn't fit in. She knew I was never plotting an act of treason. She made up the whole damn thing.

"How does not fitting into your conservative criteria give you the right to have me dead?" I asked. "How does it give you the right to tell Lord Beckett that Will saved a girl he loved by piracy? You listened in on us!"

I could feel it all coming out. I couldn't stop it now.

"Honestly, Mrs. Ashford, I never liked you. But I never wanted you dead."

She did not seem ashamed now. In her twisted eyes, what she did was right.

"I can understand you wanting me dead. But Will never did anything to you."

I reached into my drawer and grabbed my white-beaded rosary. Mrs. Ashford's eyes went to it.

"What are you going to do with that?" she asked.

"I'm taking it with me. Will and I are leaving today. God only knows what will happen to me if I stay with you."

I looked at Mrs. Ashford one final time. I was more than ready to leave behind the woman who had single-handedly made my life into a living hell. I could only hope that she would suffer and die alone.

"God knows I'll need it to pray for you," I said.

I walked past her, back down the stairs, into the parlor, and into the kitchen. It was chilling, yet liberating, hearing no footsteps behind me. She was saying that she didn't need me anymore than I needed her.

I slammed the front door behind me. I saw that Will was waiting for me outside, as promised. I nodded to him. I didn't want to speak about anything, even though I knew he was dying to ask me questions.

"Christine, must we go now?" he asked. "We can stay at an inn for a night and get some sleep."

Will's idea was more logical than mine. What made me leave now was everything – mania, sleep deprivation, and the undying need to get out of a living nightmare.

"Yes!" I said, my voice an octave higher than what it should have been. "I don't care where we go. France, Germany, England, the colonies -- I just need out."

I began to walk briskly down the street, in the direction of the docks. I prayed there would be a voyage waiting for us. We were screwed, otherwise.

"Have you honestly lost your mind."

What came from Will was not a question. I knew I seemed like a maniac, but I couldn't control it. My overwhelming need to get out of Port Royal was driving me to leave immediately. He probably wondered why I wouldn't tell him anything, either. I would – but I couldn't.

"Probably," I said.

We said nothing else as we walked to the docks. I wasn't sure whether the silence was supposed to comfort or trouble me. I didn't care, at that point.

After what seemed like a short walk to the docks, I saw what I assumed to be a ship that would take us to wherever it was headed. I could see a couple boarding the ship, and I was immediately optimistic, the most I had been in a day.

Will must have seen the ship and my reaction – the exhausted smile I had on my face. He only grabbed me by the shoulders and made me look him in the eye. He seemed frightened and not knowing what he was truly going into by getting on that ship, going to God knows where.

"Christine, I beg of you – think things through before going on that ship," he said in a low tone. "Are you as safe as you say we are? Are we guaranteed that there is no consequence for our action, or that we won't be caught in a different country?"

I swallowed. I couldn't bear to see Will so scared, knowing that I had caused it... surely he would thank me someday? Or forgive me?

"I swear," I said.

He seemed to give in. I wondered if it was because he was exhausted, or he had some sort of feeling he and I hit a rock-bottom point, and that going on a ship to God knows where couldn't hurt us.

"Fine," he said, shrugging a shoulder.

I breathed a sigh of relief. For some reason, I believed that things would be alright between us, that he would never find out that I slept with Beckett, if we got aboard the ship and started a new life somewhere else.

I took Will's hand, and together, we walked to the ship. There was no luggage for either of us. Will had gathered only money when he went into Brown's Blacksmith. There was nothing but the clothes on our backs.

I felt so liberated that, after all this time, Will and I had finally accomplished what we had set out to do for a month, since I first told Will about my instinct that Mrs. Ashford wanted me dead, and when Will told me about Beckett wanting Will dead.

I imagined I would be so much happier, finally leaving this town. I thought that I would be so happy that my breath would be caught in my throat, and I would be shaking from giddiness. Instead, it was under the worst ways possible. We had both been close to our deaths, and we had escaped it by me betraying him.

I was still grateful, nonetheless, of course.

I went up to one of the crewmen, an older gentleman with a graying beard, at the foot of the gang plank.

"Excuse me, but is this ship taking passengers?" I asked in my most polite tone, considering the circumstances.

"Of course!" the man said, his voice heavy with a French accent.

France. This was where the ship was taking us. I had taken Spanish in school! I was screwed.

"Wonderful," I said, my tone the opposite of my phrase. "Is there still room?"

"Seven shillings a person," he said.

Will pulled out his pouch of coins, but I had mine out and handed him the fourteen shillings.

"Mrs. Ashford," I explained shortly to Will, regarding the coins.

I noticed there were still quite a few coins in the pouch. I really was Beckett's whore for the night.

The man looked over Will and I, then gave a nod. "You and the _monsieur_ may go, _madam_."

Madam – wasn't that the formal way of addressing a married woman? It didn't phase me that he thought Will and I were married, even though I wondered why he thought we were.

With Will, I walked up the gangplank. I never bothered looking back at Port Royal. The last that I had seen of it was when I was walking it's streets for the final time with hatred, and I liked to keep my memory that way. It would prevent me from ever wanting to go back to my nightmare again.

Will and I went below decks, where the cots were. I flopped myself down on the mattress. I hardly felt how hard it was. I was drained beyond reason, and I wanted to disappear. I closed my eyes, absorbing the bone-aching exhaustion I felt. My eyes were heavy, and I felt as if they would never open again.

I could sense that Will was standing by my side still. It took every ounce of energy to open my eyes and look at him. My head ached, and he looked blurry. I couldn't make out his expression, but I could guess that he was still confused.

"I just want to be left alone, Will," I said.

I closed my eyes. I wasn't sure if he had left, or if he had stayed by my side, wondering why I was so distant and manic. I was asleep before I could notice.


	9. Finally an Adult

Chapter Nine

Finally an Adult

**By a sudden burst of creativity, I did this entire chapter in a night! Shocking, I know, considering it usually takes me two weeks to write a chapter, hah.**

**Happy reading! Gingerbread with yummy frosting to all reviewers. :D

* * *

**

It wasn't until night when I had awoke. Even then, when I had slept for more than twelve hours, I still felt exhausted, and didn't have the energy to get up – only because I felt that I couldn't face Will.

By the rocking of the ship, I remembered that we were on our way to France. We were finally out of Port Royal, but we were going to a country to a country where neither of us spoke the language and, to make matter worse, we were going to be on rocky grounds.

I had a horrible feeling that Will had figured out something. It would have been impossible, but I was paranoid. Today, I had made no sense, and I knew that I seemed crazy to him. Hell, I was sure that I had lost my mind for a few hours.

Did Will think that I had been tortured, hence the reason for my mania? I didn't know whether I wanted him to believe that. True, it was a scapegoat, but a horrible one.

I propped my head up from my pillow and looked at the bed on my left. I saw a head with curly hair and sharp cheekbones that could only belong to Will. It had literally hurt me to see him, even when he was sleeping. Simply imagining all the pain that I would – or had – caused him made my heart ache.

I crawled under the covers, since I had fallen asleep just by landing on my bed. I went onto my other side, facing my right side, seeing a sleeping woman with hair as curly as Will's.

I closed my eyes and felt the ship rock me to sleep. The throbbing inside my chest matched with the rocking of the ship. Throb... throb... throb...

* * *

I woke up the next morning, just as the sun was breaking on the horizon. I had been asleep for more than twenty-four hours, but still couldn't bring myself to get out of bed. I wasn't tired, per se – I simply felt depressed. I didn't want to do anything except stay I bed, curled up, and torturing myself by reliving what I had done.

I hadn't switched positions in my sleep. I was still facing the woman with curly hair, which only now I could see was brown, just like Will's.

Frustrated, I got out of bed. It was the only way I ever could leave it. I wanted to walk around the ship by myself. All I wanted was to be alone and converse with no one. Small talk with a crew members would make me scream.

I heard a man whisper "Christine" from my left, and knew that it could be only one person – he had brown, curly hair, too, damn him.

I turned to look at a tired Will. My heart ached by looking at him. I thought about walking away from him, just to end my misery, but I felt like I had to keep eye contact with him.

"What are you doing up so early?" he whispered.

What the hell? I blinked at him, utterly confused. Did he not know how long I had slept?

"I've been asleep since we boarded the ship yesterday," I said.

At that, Will got out of the bed. I knew he wasn't fully rested, but he was going to keep me company, anyway. A lump gathered in my throat, even though I wanted to be alone more than anything.

"Are you going on deck?" he asked.

I swallowed. "Yeah, just to get some fresh air."

He walked towards me. "Let me come with you."

Together, we walked up on deck. We were the only ones on deck, save for a few crew members. It had a vast deck, and, in my opinion, it was a well-kept ship.

We walked together in silence. I sensed something between us. Will was thinking of something, and it made me uneasy. Automatically, I thought of the worst, and prayed that I was wrong.

We stopped at a railing, and I leaned against it, looking at the dark waters by the ship, and seeing the water get more light towards the horizon, and then, a bulb of yellow and a sky of pink and blue. Were my mind not so preoccupied with things, I could enjoy it's beauty.

I sighed and kept my eyes on the water, not being able to bring myself to look at Will.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" I asked him.

There was a silence. I could hear his thoughts: _What_ have_ we gotten ourselves into?_

"We're going to a country where we don't speak the language, we -- I – made an impulsive move by going to France..." I suppressed a sigh. "You know, you could have told me to wait until tomorrow, when a voyage to England came. We could have spent a night at an inn, like you suggested."

Why hadn't I let Will talk me into it? It seemed like such a good idea now.

"Why didn't you insist on it?" I asked him.

I still didn't look at him, but I imagined him shrugging his shoulders. "You seemed quite set on it, and I didn't want to try and tell you otherwise."

"It wouldn't have killed you to try and be more forceful," I said.

"I think it would have."

It took me a few moments for me to realize that it was a joke, and even then I laughed with with some shame. I probably would have killed Will if he had tried to insist that we stay another day. I wanted out of Port Royal.

I sobered quickly when I, again, thought about the matter at hand. Worry filled me, and I couldn't help but sigh again.

"What are we going to do?" I asked. "We're practically broke, we're going to France, and --"

I stopped myself, realizing what I had almost said: _And I'm pretty sure we're on shaky grounds._

"We're going to do it," Will said.

He took my hand, and, without realizing it, I looked into his eyes.

"I swear everything will be alright," he said softly, looking me in the eye. His gaze was passionate, and, for a moment, I almost believed him.

"It's going to work out. It may not eventually. It's going to take some time to get used to living together in France. But I promise you this, Christine: everything will be alright."

I gave a dejected smile. I broke his gaze and looked out to the sea. _Would_ everything turn out as well as he promised? Living together (good God, he had talked about marriage two days after I had slept with someone else) in France wasn't going to be easy, I wasn't a starry-eyed romantic.

Will put his hand on my cheek, turning my face towards his. He kissed me and, sadly, I wondered if this was the last kiss we would have together.

* * *

My worries seemed to only build. It seemed overwhelming to be going somewhere foreign and living with a man I had lied to. Living without him seemed harder than living a lie. I had no idea what to do, and it would only become a mess.

Will seemed to not suspect anything more. If he did, he said nothing. I wondered if I would be able to not mention what happened in Port Royal.

We had spent four days on the ship, which I learned was named the _Immortel_, French for immortal. It wasn't until that evening, when I had done the math, that I realized that I was finally eighteen-years-old. I was an adult, and I felt no different.

I thought of my parents and my older sister, Irene. How much had they thought of me, their presumably deceased daughter, today?

I would have loved to be spending my eighteenth birthday with them, but, instead, I was with Will, waiting for disaster to strike.

We were on deck the evening of my birthday, with only a few other people. They were walking around, while we were at the railing of the ship, talking.

"You're finally an adult," Will said. "How does it feel?"

I shrugged. "No different than when I was seventeen."

He smiled. "I remember that feeling. You expect some sort of drastic change, and you want one... but there isn't one."

I nodded. Silence filled an invisible gap between us, and remained that way for several minutes.

"It's also our forth day on the ship," Will said, trying to make conversation.

I nodded. So many more torturous days on the ship...

"Yeah," I replied.

More silence filled us. It was awkward, and I wanted to know if Will was thinking anything out of the ordinary.

"May I ask you something, Christine?" he asked.

I knew it.

"Of course," I said, trying to remain nonchalant.

"It's about the moring we were released," he said hesitantly. "Do you still want me to ask? Because I would fully respect you if you said no."

He was going to ask what happened to me that evening, why I hadn't returned. I felt eerily calm, yet my stomach tingled with nausea, and my heart pounded. Besides what was happening physically, I felt ready to finally tell him. Maybe it was because I was finally an adult.

"Ask me," I said.

He looked like he was preparing himself to ask me it, and I thought he was going to back out, but he didn't. He was ten times more nervous than I was.

"I want to know what happened to you that night," he said. "You haven't been yourself, and I'm terrified as to what happened to you. That look on your face when you returned the next morning... you looked so scared, shaken, pale..."

The truth was finally coming out. I was almost relieved that this was going to come out. I was sick of keeping it from him. He needed to know.

"The day that we were both arrested, I went into questioning," I began. "I was accused of treason by Mrs. Ashford, and an accessory-after-the-fact to your crime of piracy. Lord Beckett was questioning me, and when the treason charge came up..."

I was dancing around the topic. Suddenly, my mouth felt dry, and I didn't know whether I could tell him or not. This would break him. I wasn't ready to break a man.

"In exchange for my innocence and your's, he said that I would have to sleep with him."

Will only blinked, the raw fact not registering with him yet.

"And I agreed," I continued. "As you remember, a guard came to get me later in the day for my questioning." I paused. "It wasn't for questioning."

My heart pounded in my chest. I wanted so badly for Will to see my side of the story right away, but I knew that wasn't the case.

"You slept with Lord Beckett," Will said, stunned, his eyes looking blankly out at the sea. "The man who wanted us dead, our sworn enemy, the reason that we left Port Royal in the first place."

What was I supposed to say now? _Whoops, sorry, guess I should have killed the bastard instead?_

"I was terrified to tell you because I didn't want to hurt you," I said. "Don't think for one second I'm sorry about doing it. Sex is not a big deal. It saved our lives. The only thing I'm sorry about is you finally finding out."

I wondered if that was too harsh for the moment. I didn't care. Will, silent and stunned, slowly walked away from me, towards the bow of the ship. I caught up to him, but didn't say anything.

"You slept with him," was all he said.

"Because I didn't want the feeling of my skin and organs burning being my last memory, nor did I want you being strangled by a rope to be your final one!" I said. "It's not as if I cheated on you and did it for shits and giggles, Will! I did it because --"

Unexpectedly, a lump caught in my throat, and my vision became blurry. Good God, I was going to cry in front of him over this!

"I really... _really_ care about you. You were not in the deal at first. I begged him to include you!"

Will said nothing and continued to walk forward only. I knew it without him saying anything: we were over.

"Will --"

"If it's alright, I would like to be alone, Christine," he said apathetically.

I blinked, dejected. I expected it, but I could never have imagined how heartbreaking it actually was to hear him say that.

I nodded. "Fine."

I turned around and went below decks, to the cots. I said it all in five seconds' time, and that was how long it took for us to be over.

I had never had my heart break over a guy. It felt like something was pressing against my heart, something heavy and hard, and I suddenly felt more alone than I could ever have imagined.

I figured that this was love. This gut-wrenching pain you when the only person you smile over now denied you, the yearning to do anything to have them back, and the physical pain when you try to picture a future without them.

I had finally experienced heartbreak, betrayed the only person in my life, and realized that I might have been in love. If that wasn't turning into an adult, I didn't know what was.


	10. Time Travel Confession

Chapter Ten

Time Travel Confession

**The story's coming to a close in the near future, sadly. My plot bunny is running out of energy. I'm thinking this story will go one or two more chapters, maybe?**

**Anyway, Santa cookies to reviewers!

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**

That evening, Will moved to a cot on a different side of the ship. I slept with an empty bed on my left. I didn't want to be reminded of the person that occupied it, so I turned my back to it each night, only to be reminded of him more. The woman that slept next to me had long, curly, dark hair, just like his.

It drove me insane. Will hated me for doing the right thing. He refused to speak to me. I knew I wasn't going to be forgiven.

Why did I even tell Will how we had gotten out of prison? I was such an idiot. Will couldn't see that I had slept with Beckett to save us. He saw it as me being unfaithful and the promiscuous girl that I had talked about.

Were something made of glass on board, I would have smashed it against the wall. I was so frustrated at Will for not coming around sooner and seeing _my_ point of view. I was frustrated at the whole situation, and I felt my hate gowing for Mrs. Ashford, the woman I would never see again.

One evening, a few nights after I told Will what had happened, the woman who's bed was next to me – the same girl who never said a thing – finally spoke to me.

"Are you in an argument with him?" she asked.

I don't know what made her finally speak up. She could have been trying to just make conversation with someone who's other half ditched her. She could have been curious and couldn't resist asking. She could have been making up the story of mine and Will's break-up in her head, and now was just going to confirm her story.

It was nighttime when she asked. I had gone to bed, but found myself unable to sleep. I was on my back, looking up at the ceiling. She had gone to bed an hour ago, yet she was awake, just like me.

At first, I didn't realize that she was asking me. After a few moments of silence, I looked at her, only to see that her laying body was turned towards me, her eyes on mine. I rolled over on my side to face her, not quite sure what to say.

"Yeah," I said.

There were a few moments of an awkward silence until she said, "What's his name?"

I had barely spoken in the past few days, and when I had, it wasn't about Will.

"Will," I said.

His name felt familiar to me. It was almost comforting to hear his name, despite our circumstances.

"Ah," she said.

Through her soft voice, I could hear a French accent. It was relaxing and comforting. She didn't remind me of Mrs. Ashford, and all suspicions of a repeat of her disappeared.

"I wondered why he no longer slept near you," she said.

I nodded, remembering the exact reason why he wasn't.

"He just doesn't understand why I did something that I did," I said. "And it bothers me very much that he won't."

I wondered if she was going to ask for details. After I was quiet for a few moments, I guessed not.

"I'm Christine, by the way," I said, introducing myself.

"Helene," she said.

I was quiet, and I felt my eyes close, trying to erase the sudden feeling of absolute loneliness.

"If he is worth keeping, I know you will fight for him," Helene said.

* * *

_If he is worth keeping, I know you will fight for him._

Helene's words stuck with me. She was right. Will was very much worth fighting for.

I couldn't help but repeating her words when I saw Will on deck one evening, standing at the railing. I knew that I had nothing to lose by going up to him. Even simple conversation would be better than nothing – that was, if I could achieve even _that_.

An icy cold came over me as I slowly walked up to him. My heart pounded in my chest. I hadn't spoken with him for days. Why was I doing this to myself? He was furious at me. I would become more miserable than before if I allowed myself to talk to him. I didn't want to let myself be hurt again, and I knew the chance I was taking -- I simply didn't know why I was doing it.

I stood next to him at the railing. Out of anxiety, I stood as straight as a pole, one hand on top of the other, my eyes out to the sea. I didn't dare to look at him, the man I loved, and the man who I had hurt the most.

"I know you probably won't ever talk to me again," I said softly. I still couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes.

He was silent for a few moments, and the silence was the most painful thing I ever endured. What he was thinking about, the next spiteful thing he would say, finally understanding the damage I had done... all of that left me with a gaping wound.

"I wouldn't go that far, Christine," he replied.

He would speak to me, but he still hated me. What a lovely combination.

"I didn't sleep with him for shits and giggles," I said. "It's because you're so important to me that I would lose any respect you have for me just so you would live."

I could feel the truth ready to burst out of me. My mouth became dry, and my hands were clammy and almost shaking.

"I love you."

It was nothing like the first time I had said it to Will. I had been scared the first time, and it had slipped out. I was never sure if I had loved him then. Now, there was no doubt in my mind that I loved him. I realized I couldn't live without him, and he accepted my flaws... except one.

He said nothing in response. I longed for him to hold me close, to have him stroke my hair and kiss my forehead. Sadly, I wondered if that would ever happen again.

I closed my eyes. The silence began to literally hurt. It felt like my insides were being torn apart, and my heart was being squeezed by a vice. It was a different kind of pain that I had never felt before. I wished I had never explored that level of heartache.

Will sighed in defeat. He was as sick of the entire situation as I was, but now I was making the situation more complicated.

"This never would have happened if it wasn't for Mrs. Ashford," he said.

It was like a weight was lifted off of chest. Will was _finally_ beginning to see the side I had been trying to make for a week! I was suddenly hopeful – he would take me back, and all would be fine again.

"Why did she have you arrested for treason?" he asked. "Having you falsely arrested as a pirate would have made things so much less complicated."

I didn't want to ask what he fully meant by the latter, but I had a good idea.

That was when my blood ran cold. I couldn't tell him why Mrs. Ashford accused me of treason. He would think I was crazy, and the tiny chance that I did have with him would now be gone.

_Then so be it_, I told myself.

"You're going to think I'm crazy," I said.

"I doubt it," he said.

_Doubt this_, I thought, preparing myself.

That was the night I told Will everything: what I was in Jamaica for originally; Adam, the man I had been with the night of my disappearance; waking up in a different time era above Mrs. Ashford's Bakery and agreeing to work with her; and, of course, the damning piece of evidence – the clutch with my passport.

All Will could do was look at me, shocked and in disbelief. The silence was harsh, and his brown eyes never left me.

"You've gone mad," he said softly.

I probably had. I just didn't want to admit it.

"It must make sense somehow, though," I said. "The way I speak, my accent, how I never really said where I was from, how I told you I came from a much looser place..."

I thought about taking Will's hand, but decided against it. Instead, I settled for meeting his eyes.

"You have to believe me," I said. "I have nothing to gain by lying to you. We're messed up enough as it is."

I didn't know if he believed me.

For the first time I relaxed my posture, utterly defeated, and realizing that we very well could be over.


	11. The Resolution of a Confession

Chapter Eleven

The Resolution of a Confession

**I am terribly sorry for the delay. Life, has again, gotten in the way. Teachers decided to give sadistic amount of homework before finals, which I oh-so appreciated. I am working solely on weekends (leaving me with even less spare time). I have also been in mourning, due to the death of a friend.**

**However, I present you the final chapter. There will no sequel or any other fanfics. I'm going to start original writings now!**

**Thank you all for reading this story – and special thank-you for those who reviewed! I would love nothing more than a little review at the end. You can say it was utter crap, or you can say you enjoyed it – it doesn't matter to me.**

**Without further ado, the final chapter!

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**

It didn't occur to me until the next morning how stupid I was.

I confessed that I had time traveled. What the hell was I _thinking_? As if Will would buy that. If he didn't before, he now knew that I had gone crazy.

Why did I have to do that? I had no chance with him now. I would be in France, alone and miserable.

I did something I had never done: I moped in bed all day over a guy. I was so lethargic that a bed seemed like the only thing that I could turn to. It provided some sort of comfort – being balled up in it seemed so natural when I felt so helpless.

It was cloudy out, too – perfect weather for sulking. I thought it was raining, too, but perhaps it was wishful thinking.

I also heard footsteps. I prayed they didn't belong to Helene. I would rather not talk to anyone.

It was someone worse than Helene. As the footsteps came closer, I could soon identify the person when I saw them, and in front of me stood Will, the man who I was convinced thought I was crazy and who I had faced not twelve hours ago.

Will came towards me and knelt at my bedside, resting a hand on my cheek. This didn't seem like the situation where one thought that one had gone crazy... then again, I wouldn't know.

"Christine..." he said softly.

I could barely muster a half-smile. Even then, it was hardly that.

"I swear to you, I told the truth," I said. "I wouldn't lie to you."

I was desperate, and I would say whatever it was so convince him. I loved him.

"I know," he said softly. "I know."

I knit my brows together in confusion. Had I heard right? Why did he think that I actually time-traveled?

"You believe me?" I said, shocked.

His eyes became soft, and they were the brown eyes of the Will Turner that I had loved, not the man that I had single-handedly destroyed.

"Like you said," he said, "you have no reason to lie to me."

He believed me.

I felt every muscle in my body go weak from joy. The fact that I might not lose Will made me want to cry and jump for joy.

Suddenly, I felt a lump forming in my throat, and my eyes filling with tears. I put my hand on top of his, which was still resting on my cheek.

"Oh, my God," was all I could say, smiling.

His eyes sparkled, but he kept his face still. My heart quickly lurched in my stomach. I could only imagine what he was thinking.

"I cannot be in France by myself," he said softly.

His gaze into my eyes was intense and sucked me in like never before. Will's words held me at attention, and I held on bated breath with what he would say next. Why was he giving a simple profession of love?

"I refuse to introduce you as Christine Turner, my sister."

Will remained quiet for a moment, and I was utterly captivated, my heart pounding in my chest.

"I want you to introduce you as Christine Turner, my wife, my other half... my soul mate."

Dear God, he was proposing.

I expected to be frightened at a proposal. I was utterly calm with this one, almost blissful, and every bit grateful.

"I beg of you," he said softly, his brown eyes more tender than ever. "Marry me. I know we won't have the grandest of lives, but I will please you in every way that I am capable of."

His voice lowered to a whisper that made me want to melt. "You know that I will hold to that promise, Christine."

Warmth surrounded me. Everything seemed perfect. It was as if nothing wrong had ever happened, and we were the young kids in love back in Port Royal. I wanted that feeling of youth and love to last forever.

Reality hit me. We had treated each other like shit, and he was proposing – especially the day after I told him that I time-traveled – _why_? Nor had I ever wanted to get married.

What was I doing?!

"I don't know if this is such a good idea," I whispered, suddenly sober.

"I know how sudden it is," he said. "And after our reconciliation... this probably isn't the time to do it. But I love you more than you could ever know, Christine. And I need to know if you feel even remotely the same way."

I blinked. I had no idea what to say. I never thought I would get married, but, then again, I never thought I would fall in love. I could tell that Will meant every word that he had said, but getting married was too much for me to do.

As I laid still, my eyes remaining on Will's, I realized something: if I was able to trust him so much that I was able to say that I loved him with confidence, the future could bring something very wonderful.

Now I was only able to see the point of view that I knew had been suppressed for so long: I loved him, and a marriage would somehow work out. Love built on trust, and trust was built on love.

From that moment on, I knew that Will was everything to me. I couldn't imagine life without him. He had kept me sane when life was anything but. I knew that I would need him there even when it was perfect, because he would make my life just that.

"I do," I said. "Very, very much."

* * *

On December 12, Will and I arrived in Nice, France. We got married the same day.

Besides Will, the priest conducting the ceremony, and I, there was no one there. The priest thought we were eloping, but I couldn't have cared less. I was experiencing something that, a few months ago, I was sure I would never live.

As soon as Will slipped the warm band of gold around my finger, I felt complete. I was finally his, as he was finally mine.

Will's reasons for his sudden proposal on the ship still remained unanswered. I had never asked, but there wasn't anything I wouldn't have given to know the answer.

I had a secret of my own. Will would never know how much he saved me. I had lived in a place I had taken to calling Disturbia, with Will as the only light in the dark. Now, I was finally at peace: We were living in a small, yet cozy home in Nice, together, just like how I had only wished things would end up.

The best thing about being in love with Will? The feeling I had in my stomach every time I looked at him never went away.

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**Thank you for reading, and a review would make my day!**


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